Home
by PhoenixPheathers12
Summary: All Lydia wants is go home. Stydia. Rated for language and sexual content in future chapters. Inspired by 'Home' by Gabrielle Aplin.
1. Home

Hey, guys. So, this is my first Stydia fic that I've actually completed a chapter for. I'm planning for this one to be somewhere between five and ten chapters, but I'm not entirely sure just yet. But it is loosely inspired by the song and video _Home _by Gabrielle Aplin, which I definitely recommend everyone listen to. Anyways, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf**

* * *

_"I'm a phoenix in the water_

_A fish that's learned to fly_

_I've always been a daughter_

_But feathers are meant to fly"_

_- Home _by Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

The cemetery was technically closed when Lydia arrived, but was easy enough to sneak into. It wasn't like anyone was actually stupid enough to voluntarily stay out and keep watch. No, not in Beacon Hills, where people dropped like flies. Lydia used the flashlight on her phone to guide her as she stepped towards between grave stones, searching. She could hear the dead whispering in her ear, calling out to her. She ignored them.

It was only four in the morning, far too early for anyone sane to be awake, let alone visit a cemetery. Which is what Lydia was counting on. Her eyes scanned the names carved into each headstone until they finally found it.

_Allison Argent_

_Beloved Daughter_

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eux-mêmes_

Lydia crouched in front of the grave, fresh tears building behind her eyes. She reached out to gently touch the cool stone, fingers trembling.

"I love you, Allison," she breathed. She rose to her feet and stood, staring down at the grave in contemplative silence. Just thinking about Allison, the beautiful, smiling young girl that she had loved so dearly. She would be twenty-four right now, if she were still alive.

_Seven years_. They seemed to just fly by as Lydia pushed her way through high school and college, doing her best to ignore her banshee powers. Living outside of Beacon Hills, away from her friends, sort of took away all of her motivation to keep learning and trying to understand them.

It was eight months after Allison's death that Lydia had moved. All because her mother had learned the truth about the supernatural dangers of Beacon Hills and wanted nothing to do with it. LA was nice, everything the Old Lydia would have loved. But it wasn't home, and had made for a difficult life. Especially without her friends.

Except that even after she had turned 18 and had the ability to move wherever she desired, Lydia never bothered coming back. Not even to visit Allison's grave. Not even to visit her friends. If asked, Lydia would just say that her life got ahead of her, and she just didn't have time. But deep down she knew that her real reasoning was far more complex and pathetic.

Even if it had been hard, the past few years had been safe and free of supernatural intervention. Even her powers had been all but entirely non-existent. And as much as Lydia missed her friends, part of her had grown far too comfortable in the normalcy that had been returned to life.

Sighing to herself, Lydia shook her head and turned away. She'd been here long enough. She had to get home.

Lydia had parked her car a fair distance away, outside of a small little book shop where she was least likely to run into anyone she knew. It was unlikely that anyone would actually be out at this hour, but she still wanted to be safe.

Unfortunately, the parking lot was not as empty as Lydia had left it thirty minutes beforehand. Three dark figures were huddled by the entrance to the bookshop, the dull glow of their cigarettes illuminating their faces. Lydia didn't recognize any of them, so she kept her head down, focusing instead on her cell phone.

_I'll be home by tonight. Don't bother waiting up. I'll call you when I'm in the city._

Just as she pressed the _send _button, the sounds of mocking laughter reached her ears, a little too close for comfort. Lydia glanced up despite herself, frowning. The three men had put out their cigarettes and were walking towards her. Lydia tensed and looked back down as she walked, her other hand securing the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

The laughter fell silent suddenly, the only sound the click of her heels on the asphalt. Lydia prayed that they would continue on past her, that they weren't potential rapists or something creepy and supernatural. Her car was only a few feet away now, but the strangers had stopped right between her and the cherry red Honda. Lydia came to a halt, mustering the courage to look them right in the eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a calm, indifferent tone. _Don't let them see any fear. Don't even be afraid. You are Lydia Martin._

One of the guys, the tallest of the three, leered at her.

"Just wonderin' that a pretty little thing like you is doin' out on her own at this time of night?" he said. His voice was low and gravelly, and it sent chills up her spine. Lydia folded her arms over her chest, keeping her phone in her fist.

"That's none of your business," Lydia replied curtly, arching a single brow. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get to my car and _leave_."

The shortest man sniggered. "Aw, where you goin'? I was just thinkin' maybe we could have a little fun." Before Lydia could even react, they were converging around her. One gripped onto the handle of her purse, yanking it forcefully away from her. The motion sent her phone flying from her fist, and Lydia could hear it clatter on the asphalt. Another man grabbed ahold of Lydia's shoulders, spinning and pushing her up against her car. He pressed himself up against her, burying his face into her curly red locks.

Lydia let out a cry of protest, struggling against his hold. Somewhere behind him, Lydia could hear the other two men digging through her purse, but that seemed no where near as important as the hardened organ pressing against her hip through the man's jeans.

He inhaled deeply, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to erupt across Lydia's flesh. The stench of smoke and body odor was suffocating and she had to turn her face away.

"Damn, girl, you do smell good," the man growled.

"Let me go!" Lydia whimpered, pressing her palms weakly against his chest. He was a tall, wide man, however. Even in heels, she barely reached his chest. His strength was too much for even her unwavering determination to get free.

"What'chu cryin' 'bout? Don't you act like you ain't used to this, girly. Walkin' around all alone at night, wearin' a skirt like this? Nah, you're just askin' to be picked up by a fella like me. Bet you're feelin' just as excited as I am."

"Damn, Sullivan, hurry the fuck up!" one of the men cried. "Just fuck the bitch and get it over with. I'm hungry!"

Terror bubbled in Lydia's chest, clawing its way up her throat. She could feel the scream building, and the tried to press it down. Over the jeers of her attackers, Lydia could hear a heavy, fast pounding. Like a drum. It grew louder as the urge to scream increased. She felt the man's large hands begin to roughly grope up and down her form, grabbing at her through her clothing.

A shrill whistle escaped between Lydia's clenched teeth, and she quickly clamped her lips together to suppress the sound. It was an instinct, to hold back. Nothing good ever came from Lydia's screams, and the last thing she needed was more trouble. No, she needed to focus on getting away.

She squirmed, trying to free her pinned leg. A warm, sweaty hand slid its way up Lydia's shirt, grazing her stomach, and the drumming was deafening. God, what _was _that? She had to get away. There was no way in hell Lydia was going to become a victim again, especially to creeps like this.

Tears pooled in her eyes and her throat began to burn until finally, it was too much. Opening her mouth, Lydia let out a blood curdling shriek. The man jumped away at the unearthly sound, releasing her. The scream died out, and Lydia quickly took advantage of her freedom by kneeing the man hard between the legs.

The man fell to his knees with a groan, and his friends quickly rushed to his aid. Lydia collapsed against the car, feeling suddenly fatigued.

"The hell was that?" one of the man shouted as he pulled his friend to his feet. The other lunged forward, shoving Lydia away from the car. With a cry, Lydia fell onto the asphalt, catching herself on her knees and hands. Head spinning, it took her a moment to realize that the men had actually climbed into her car and were starting the engine.

"No!" Lydia struggled to her feet just as the driver backed up and began turning away. "Stop! Please!" But it was too late. A window rolled down.

"Thanks for the ride, sweetheart!" a voice called out as the car drove away.

As Lydia watched her car vanish around the corner, a depressing silence settled over her. She had been alone before, but now she was alone and without a ride. Not to mention she was still shaking from her attack. Gathering her bearings, Lydia looked down at the ground, searching for her phone. Eventually, she did find into, shattered beyond repair.

"Shit." Okay, so she was stranded, and she couldn't even call anyone for help. Fantastic.

* * *

The sun was now stretching its rays across the sky, and Lydia was beginning to wonder if heels were really as great as she usually believed them to be. Because God, did her feet hurt. She'd been walking for nearly half an hour, trying desperately to remember where any of her friends were living after her six years of absence. She really didn't want to have to face them, especially after all of her efforts to _avoid _them while visiting Allison's grave. But it was that or hitchhike to LA. And Lydia really wasn't in the mood to deal with anymore potential rapists.

Finally, without any clue as to where else she could go, Lydia found herself standing outside of the Sheriff station. Perhaps she could just talk to the Sheriff, call her mom, and avoid her friends entirely.

Lydia was just about to head inside when a cruiser skidded into the parking lot and came to a halt just a few feet away. Lydia paused, trying to see if she might recognize the deputy inside.

A familiar mess of brown hair emerged from the driver's side, large brown eyes staring at her in disbelief.

"Lydia? Are you alright?" Despite now wearing a police uniform and being six years older didn't make Stiles any less recognizable, especially with that same damn expression of bewildered concern as he rushed towards her. Suddenly Lydia was seventeen again, terrified after stumbling across a fresh body.

"Stiles," she breathed. "What are you doing here?" Because apparently that was the best thing she could think of to say. Why would a deputy be at the police station?

The passenger door opened, and a man that could only be Scott McCall emerged. Unlike Stiles, he was dressed rather normally, in jeans and a t-shirt. But he didn't look any less concerned.

"What am I doing h- Lydia, what are you doing here? What happened? Why did you scream?" Stiles demanded, stopping just a foot away from her. He reached towards her, and Lydia flinched involuntarily. Seeing her reaction, Stiles quickly backed away.

Lydia looked between the two boys- no, God, they were men now-, and licked her lips nervously.

"I was- I'm fine. I'm not hurt. I just panicked. I was just visiting- And then they just- I'm alright, I took care of it. They didn't- I didn't-"

There wasn't enough air, and Lydia took several deep breaths through her nose. She was aware of Scott and Stiles staring at her, probably both thinking that she'd officially lost it.

"Lydia," Scott said. Wow, his voice was deep. Had it always been that deep? And how did he always manage to sound so kind and sweet, even with just a single word? To this day, Lydia had never met anyone as good and kind-hearted as Scott McCall. "What happened?"

Lydia wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I was mugged," she answered. "And they stole my car. The scream was just a reflex, I guess. It's been a while since I really been in any sort of danger, and I just acted on instinct. I didn't mean to worry you guys."

Stiles looked for a moment like he was going to explode, his face turning a strange shade of red. "Where did they go? Where are they?"

Lydia wanted to roll her eyes, but she couldn't quite manage it.

"I don't know. They just- they just took off." She shrugged, looking down. "I just wanted to report a stolen vehicle and call my mom. I just need a ride home."

Stiles took a cautious step forward, and when Lydia didn't react, he moved closer, gently touching her shoulder.

"Alright, how about you come inside? It's freezing out here, and you look exhausted." Lydia nodded, realizing that he was right. She was freezing. And her body felt like it was made of lead. She allowed him and Scott to guide her inside.

* * *

_"And so I'm wishing, wishing further_

_For the excitement to arrive_

_It's just I'd rather be causing the chaos_

_Than laying at the sharp end of this knife"_

_- Home _by Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

So, there it is! I hope you guys enjoyed! The next chapter will be up soon. Don't forget to review!


	2. Ghosts

Hey, guys, so here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

_"I'm sick and tired of hanging out my window_

_I've learnt from past experience rain can't make flowers grow_

_And friends don't stick around_

_They go which way the wind blows_

_You're never safe and sound 'til all the doors are closed"_

_- Ghosts by Gabrielle Aplin_

Lydia didn't really want to talk about what had happened. Honestly, she really didn't want to talk at all. She just wanted to go home. But sitting in front of Scott and Stiles, feeling their worried gazes, it was like all of the years melted away, and she found the words flowing out of her, despite herself. They even had her file a report. She didn't tell them about the assault, however, altering the story slightly. She knew better than to even hint at anything that might lead to Stiles ending up behind bars for murder. As it was, she could tell that he was having trouble staying put at her request.

"It's a small town," she told him. "I'm sure it won't be too hard to find them considering they're driving around a very obviously stolen car."

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Stiles asked, arms folded tightly over his chest, He stood, leaning against his father's desk, Scott standing by his side. Lydia didn't like how this felt a bit like an interrogation, but she didn't show it. She sat in the chair across from them, legs crossed and expression indifferent.

"No," she lied, looking away. "They just took my purse and car. They didn't even touch me."

She heard one of them let out a deep, heavy sigh.

"Alright, it's really late. Where are you staying?" Stiles asked. "I can give you a ride."

And here came the hard part.

"I'm not staying anywhere," she answered. "I was just passing through."

"Just passing- At four in the morning?" She looked up, happy to see that even older, Stiles made all of the same faces. His brows furrowed and his mouth hung open as he stared at her. Scott looked equally surprised, but hid it a bit better.

Lydia shifted in her seat, uncrossing her legs.

"I didn't even plan on being here," she confessed. "The last thing I remember was driving home from work, and I sort of just… ended up here. Well, outside of the cemetery. I don't know why. I didn't find anything unusual. No dead bodies. None that shouldn't have been there, anyways." She pursed her lips, frustrated.

"Alright. You can stay with us, then. We''ve got room," Stiles offered. Lydia looked up at him, contemplating the idea. After so many years apart, it was weird being in front of her friends again, and she wasn't too sure how to conduct herself. And she felt ashamed, letting so much time pass without a word between them. No phone calls, letters, or visits. Just… nothing. How betrayed must they have felt? How much must they have hated her for just leaving them like that?

"I'm not too sure that's a good idea," she said slowly. "I don't want to impose or anything-"

"Lydia, c'mon. It's us," Stiles cut in. "You know you don't even have to worry about that." Scott nodded in agreement, giving her a supportive smile.

Lydia bit down on her bottom lip as she thought it over. Perhaps it wouldn't be too horrible of an idea. She was exhausted, after all. And maybe she could use this opportunity to make amends.

"Alright," she conceded. "But just for tonight. My roommate is probably worried sick about me." She stood, straightening her skirt. Both men grinned triumphantly.

"Awesome," Stiles cheered. "Let me just get my stuff, and then we can head out."

Scott led Lydia back out to the car, where they waited for Stiles.

They stood, leaning against the cruiser, enveloped in an oddly comfortable silence. Lydia watched Scott from the corner of her eyes, cataloging the differences. The early morning sunlight reflected off of his dark locks, which she was glad to see he'd kept short. It was a much better look on him. He was taller, although not by much, and broader. His eyes seemed darker, shoulders lower, as though a heavy weight rested upon them. But otherwise he still seemed like the same, warm-hearted and disgustingly kind, selfless Scott McCall that Lydia knew and loved.

Lydia wondered what she had missed over the last several years in Beacon Hills, if anyone else had died or turned into some homicidal supernatural creature.

"So, did you visit her?" Scott suddenly asked, breaking the silence. Lydia didn't have to ask to know that he was referring to Allison.

"Yeah," she replied softly. "I did." She met his gaze, giving him a small smile. He returned it, shifting towards her so that he could gently nudge her with his arm.

"We've missed you, you know," he said. There was nothing accusatory in his eyes or tone. Just honesty, love. God, sometimes Lydia hated how nice Scott was. It just made her feel worse.

"I missed you guys, too. So much." She looked down, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry I never- I should have tried calling or visiting." Scott shrugged.

"I always figured you had a good reason. You were probably better off, anyways, being away from this place." He let out a sigh. "Things haven't changed much around here. Everything is still… Just as deadly and dangerous as ever. Luck seems to be the only thing keeping this town standing anymore."

Lydia shook her head. "Scott, I may be been gone for six years, but if I know anything, I know that you are the one protecting this town from complete and utter desolation." Scott chuckled.

"Thanks."

"Besides," she added. "While it was incredibly nice not finding dead bodies at every turn, I do miss that feeling."

"What feeling?" His brows pinched together, confused, reminded Lydia of a sad puppy.

"That feeling of… accomplishment. When you save another person's life. It was always one of the best parts of everything here, even if it was rare. That made a lot of the bad experiences worth it." It was funny how easy she found it to say all of this to him, especially after so long. She found it comforting. Maybe it was a good thing that she ended up here.

Stiles emerged from the building then, jogging towards them with his keys in one hand and a manilla folder in the other.

"Alright, you guys ready to go?" he asked as he walked around to the driver's side of the cruiser.

Both Lydia and Scott nodded. Just before climbing in, Scott hesitated.

"Do you wanna take the front seat, Lydia? It'll probably be more comfortable," he offered, concern etched across his features. Lydia wanted to roll her eyes, but just gave him a smile, arching a brow.

"It's not the first time I've ridden in the back seat of a cop car," she said, opening her door. "I'm sure I'll manage just fine." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sat, closing her door behind her.

Scott and Stiles shared a look over the hood of the car before both scrambling inside.

"What do you mean it's not the first time?" Stiles demanded as he started the car. He glanced back at her through the metal grating. "Just what have you been up to all these years, anyways?"

Lydia gave him a coy smile, leaning back. "Well, wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, unable to help herself. Her amusement only grew as she watched his ears burn red. He gaped for a moment, unsure how to respond. But then, to her astonishment, a knowing smirk of his own stretched his lips, and the sight sent her heart stuttering in her chest.

"I'll get you to fess up, one way or another," he told her confidently. He turned forward, fastening his seat belt before pulling out of the parking lot.

Lydia felt a layer of tension lift away from her shoulders at the response, and she allowed herself to get more comfortable on the hard, plastic seat.

"Well, while we're catching up, you boys will have to tell me all of the latest new in town. I want to hear everything. Supernatural or not." Both men chuckled.

"You got it," Scott replied earnestly.

It took a moment for Lydia to realize that they'd reached their destination when they pulled up in front of a small, unfamiliar house. It wasn't the McCall or Stilinski residence that she'd been expecting. But of course, they were adults now. They had no reason to still be living with either of their parents. And Lydia supposed it was only natural for them to end up living together, at least for the time being.

She had to wait for Scott to pull her door open for her before she could climb out, mindful of her skirt. She gave him an appreciative smile and followed them up to the front door. It took a moment of Stiles fumbling with his keys, even dropping them twice, before they could finally get inside.

It was pretty much everything Lydia expected on the inside. Minimal furniture, bare walls, a large screen tv, every video game console known to man, and the obvious absence of a decent feminine touch. Still, it was surprisingly clean, although the coffee table and kitchen counter were a bit cluttered with papers.

"Home sweet home," Stiles said, tossing his keys onto the counter. Scott shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch. Almost immediately, Stiles was picking it up and hanging it in the closet, along with his own coat. Lydia suppressed a smile. It was obvious who the primary housekeeper was here, at least. And yet it was oddly fitting. Stiles had spent so long taking care of his father that it was probably second nature by now. If only he could bring that tidiness into his own bedroom. Something told Lydia that particular space would be just as cluttered as ever, especially now that he had taken on the official crime solving role as a deputy.

"So, how long have you two been living here?" she asked, taking a seat on the couch. It was old, lumpy, and pleather, creaking annoyingly beneath her weight.

"About two years now," Stiles replied, moving into the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Starving." He opened the fridge, pulling out a large cardboard box that could only be leftover pizza. Normally, Lydia might have turned it away, but she dare not after the rumbling her stomach gave at the sight. It occurred to her then that she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. No wonder she was so hungry.

"Cold or hot?" Scott asked her as he began pulling out plates. Before she could answer, Stiles was already stealing the plates and dropping the slices onto them.

"Cold," he said. Lydia smiled at him as he approached, plates in hand.

"You remembered," she admired. Stiles shrugged, dropping himself down onto the couch beside her. The dip in the furniture had her sliding against him, and they both exchanged awkward smiles.

"Of course I did," he said, handing her the plate. Lydia accepted it gratefully, waiting only to thank him before bringing the slice to her already salivating mouth. The pizza, she immediately recognized, was from a small local joint. A little family owned business with the best pizza that Lydia had ever tasted. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed it during her time away. Eating it was much like dying and going to heaven, she decided. And something she'd definitely have to bring back home to LA. Her roommate would love it.

"So, Lydia," Scott said, sitting beside Stiles so that they were all sandwiched together. "How's LA?"

Lydia paused, allowing herself a moment to finish chewing before she answered.

"Busy," she said. "Traffic is hell. Everyone is just about as pretentious as they seem on TV." She gave a little shrug, unsure really of what else to say. LA wasn't bad, and she had grown more than comfortable with it. But suddenly trying to explain it to her friends, it seemed like she couldn't quite put the words together to accurately describe it. "I'd like to say it's less dangerous, but I might be lying," she joked.

"What have you been doing there all this time?" Stiles wondered. "I mean, I expected you to be world famous by now for creating some great mathematical theorem by now or something."

Lydia smiled fondly at the memory of their conversation at the dance.

"Don't worry, it'll happen," she assured him. "I've actually been in school, mostly. I finished up high school, went straight to university. I got myself a few degrees, but I've actually decided that I want to become a medical examiner. So I'll be starting my first semester of medical school at Harvard next fall."

She paused for a moment, gauging their reactions.

"Wow," Stiles said, his voice muffled by the food still in his mouth. He took a moment to swallow. "That's amazing! I guess we all ended up choosing to go into crime solving, huh?"

"All of us?" Lydia looked to Scott.

"Oh, yeah. I'm actually a deputy too, like Stiles. I just had the day off, so I wasn't in my uniform," Scott said. "Stiles and I are actually partners, as luck would have it."

Lydia grinned. "So you have to live with him and work with him?" she asked incredulously. "How do you do it?"

"Hey, I resent that," Stiles interjected, eyes wide. "Scotty loves it, don't you buddy?" He turned expectantly to his friend, who quickly looked away, scratching the back of his head.

"What? Yeah, no it's great," he said, unconvincingly. "Wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

Lydia laughed at Stiles offended look.

"You guys are the worst," he declared before taking an angry bite from his pizza.

Although the sun was out and it was nearly noon, they eventually all agreed on getting some nice, much needed rest. Scott was the first to disappear into his room, yawning as he went. Stiles gathered their plates, bringing them to the sink.

"You can take my bed," he offered. "I can take the couch."

Lydia arched a brow, leaning on the counter as she watched him rinse the dishes.

"I thought you said you had room," she said.

"We do?" Stiles replied, confused.

"Having room implies having enough space without you being kicked out onto that lumpy, gross couch," Lydia told him. "Where did you even get that thing?"

"It was like twenty bucks at a yard sale," Stiles huffed defensively. "And it's not that bad. Unless you'd rather sleep on it yourself." He glanced back at her, delivering another knowing smirk that had Lydia pausing, wondering how the hell she still actually found Stiles Stilinski so attractive. It had been six years since she'd seen him, for god's sake. That should be plenty of time to get over… whatever it was that they were when she'd left.

"Of course not," she said, standing up straight. "But I'm also not letting you sleep on it for my sake. We can share the bed. It shouldn't be a problem, right?" There was a crash as a plate slipped from Stiles's grasp and into the sink, but fortunately it didn't break. Lydia could practically see his eyes bulging, even from behind, and smirked. Good to know that she wasn't the only one still affected.

After seeming to finally compose himself, Stiles turned to face her.

"Are you sure? It's not a- it's just a full size bed, so it'll be a bit of a squeeze. I mean, not to say that you're- it's just a small bed, so I hardly fit on it by myself, and I-" He rambled on, the blushing and awkward Stiles that Lydia knew and loved.

Rolling her eyes, she reached over and turned off the sink.

"It's fine, Stiles. It's not like it's the first time we've had to share a bed. Just don't make it weird, and it won't be weird." Ignoring his protests, she grabbed him by the elbow and began pulling him down the hall towards his room. She couldn't deny the fluttering of her own stomach as they made the journey, but she decided that if she just kept telling herself that it wasn't a big deal, then everything would be fine.

This was Stiles, after all. And if the last hour was anything to go by, the last six years hadn't even made a dent in their friendship. So they'd be just fine, right?

_"Soon it will all fall apart,_

_And their roads will have no way,_

_And you'll be the one laughing,_

_As their fences fade away,_

_And instead of being left there, feeling all alone,_

_Break down the house you made of match sticks,_

_And set fire to their throne"_

_- Ghosts by Gabrielle Aplin_


End file.
